Now Charles’ Wain hangs pendant in the sky <br />this clear, cold night. Folklore made the King <br />and Emperor a saint at times, or pictured farming <br />the far and stony reaches there on high <br />among the scattered stars, his task marked by <br />the homely farm-cart. What fantastic thing <br />in all his life could any chanson sing <br />that would compare with this immortality? <br /> <br />Unsaintly saint, dubious hero, yet <br />higher than Roland who at Roncevalles <br />fought to protect him, Charles is set – <br />husbanding meteors, counting the windfalls <br />of stars, carrying in his cart <br />the wild imagination of the heart.<br /><br />Kathleen Griffin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/big-dipper/
